"skitter" poems
Pinto?
No, not the wild-spirited, color-splotched mare
with mane streaming like flames-thrown
behind in the wind
Taking desert inclines
with scuffing hooves on rock
catching her balance in mesquite
curbing?
The sage, dust
All
that nature throws in its pathway to knowledge
toward treachery of crosswalks?
“P-l-e-a-s-e don't slow down!
Stop signs--?
”No!
Just keep going!
Don't slow down now!”
“They'll hear us coming
3 blocks away!”
Pinto?
Clogged carburetor--?
No one much-mentioned
rear-end inferno reputation??
A mere twinge in my signature
Woman-without-a-clue
“Hey, it runs, right?
Gets where we're goin'?”
Kids duck in back seat
so as not to be seen
In the cloud of smoke
We make our approach
Hiss Spitter, Belch, Pop
and--
BANG!
--Like a gunshot
Kids take cover
on street, in backseat
duck down
so not to be noticed...
“Oh Ma!
MA!!!
Not right here!
Farther down!”
...so not to be seen
...by friends that matter...
in this ride
from hell!
Backfiring Beast--
“Friends”
skitter away
from what will emerge from the smoke and fumes
of high-risk-situation
Kids spill out through jammed door
to unexpected accolades
onto equality's curb
of laughter
Public school's
wake of exhaust and relief
I drive mercifully away
Start of another school day
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
T'was the night before Christmas
And with everything done
The kids were all dreaming
Of Christmas Day fun
The tree was completed
We had wrapped all the toys
When from the basement below
We heard a faint noise
I sprung from the couch
Took off down the stairs
On my way through the kitchen
I tripped on two chairs
I slid down the staircase
To the base of my house
And there with my shortbreads
Was a ****** great mouse
My wife followed close
And then she let out a shriek
She saw me and the mouse
And she started to freak
He nibbled the cookie
and he ran past my nose
right down my torso
Then he stopped at my toes
My wife was still screaming
The mouse didn't care
He continued his running
On under the stairs
I crawled to my workshop
Grabbed the first thing I found
A mallet for pounding
That mouse in the ground
I limped to the staircase
And I swung at the wall
I again lost my balance
And again, I did fall
I put two holes in the riser
Two more in the tread
I was gonna keep swinging
Till that mouse was dead
I broke the one lightbulb
That lit up the room
Now I was worried
I couldn't see...found the broom
I stepped on one end
Squared my self in the sack
I then heard a noise
The mouse had come back
I heard his slight skitter
As he went past my feet
He was off to the larder
For more stuff to eat
I went back to the workshop
Tripping at least three more times
I would finish this mouse
He would pay for his crimes
I grabbed for a lighter
And my large propane torch
I would hunt down this mouse
And his **** I would scorch
I lit up the propane
And I aimed at the stairs
It caught light on the carpet
And I burnt both those chairs
The flames went on upward
The stairs were quite dry
I laughed in hysterics
That **** mouse would fry
My wife had recovered
And decided to run
but, after seeing the flames
She phoned up 9 1 1
The mouse left the building
In fact, he never was found
The house burned in seconds
It collapsed to the ground
And through the whole scene
I just stood there and laughed
At the wreckage before me
And I thought, **** I'm daft
I had ruined our Christmas
And I burned down our house
Over a **** shortbread cookie
And one little mouse
The kids, they got out
And were wrapped up and warm
While I was creating
My own perfect storm
The gifts were all ruined
The house ...all consumed
And over my head
One large question loomed
If I had gone for the shotgun
And shot at the mouse
Would I be still having Christmas
And would I still have a house
My wife came on over
And she gave me a swat
She said "look what you've done"
"you great stupid ****
I learned a great lesson
and folks ...it is that
Once I rebuild
I will then buy a cat!!!
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Shackled by whims and desires.
The selfless and the selfish, Danse Macabre.
Who holds the key to these manacles?
Is it me?
Or is it you?
You are the spider and I dance through your tangled web of desire.
But your desires cannot be sated by my sacrificial offerings.
Do you desire at all, my dear?
You skitter through the woven webs, devouring the innocents trapped in silken tombs.
I beg of you master, please, show your mercy to your subservient.
Release me so I may release you.
******* is not becoming of you.
1/1/2016
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC
A POSEY OF SHEEP
She a butterfly
in her little blue dress
chasing butterflies
blowing bubbles after them.
Butterflies and bubbles
skitter here and there.
Her "flying flowers"
as she names them.
One b one by one she
picks wildflowers.
They blossom in her fist
losing more than she collects.
I take the ribbon from her hair
tie them tightly in place.
"I have a garden
in my hand!"
She runs and runs and runs
as only a little girl can
joy and speed
fused together in her.
And when she returns
her petals have all gone.
She holds only stalks
in her hand
flowerless flowers.
"Shhhhh!" I shush her sobbing.
"Look what you have found!"
And I let perspective
take a hand/
On each stalk now
a sheep replaces petals.
The sheep unaware that they
have become surreal flowers
only existing
at a certain angle.
Who cares if they are not real.
It's the seeing that matters.
She holds a posey
of sheep.
I tell her they are
flowers made of magic.
On the far away hillside
sheep still safely graze.
And when she moves and
finds them "GONE!"
I reposition her and
there they are.
"Hold still!" I tell her
and pick each sheep
pocket them
mind them for her.
Happy once again she
runs and runs and runs
clutching her precious stalks
in a tiny hand.
All her imaginary sheep
tucked up in her mind
possibly for ever
if not
longer.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 5:49 PM UTC
i am selfish in my adoration
- in my observation
as if this light, this moon is
mine&
mine alone.
as if no other being is looking upon same
face as i
as if this face is put on just for me.
as if she is my mother and she has no daughter quite as grand as i.
i bottle her clear, unlying light with my
eyes &
hide those bottles away deep my
chest
somewhere close to my heart so few may see it.
her beams are a lullaby sweeping over mountain ridges
that i like to pretend only i can hear as she sings over the
loud whispering of the trees.
i like to think that i am sole and secular in being bathed in her
spectacular, white-gold luminescence.
her engulfing gaze is the emanating heat of my blankets, encompassing me like a child.
i do not share this warmth- no,
no instead i wrap it tightly around me, i burrow down within it
and let it dissolve the cold of the world untouched by her light.
her light keeps the true night away—
even the creatures who ride the wind, howling and furious still.
they skitter around her;
quiet and heavy with awe as if they know they are in her territory and their kind are not welcome there.
her grandeur is not to be shared nor looked upon by unworthy eyes.
it would be vain to think that no other shall gaze up at her as i do
but i shall be vain.
i shall be vain and i shall try to trap her essence within my veins to keep
the undeserving away.
i am gluttonous with her abundant shine &
in quiet, lonely moments like this i {selfishly}
like to think
that she is smiling just for me.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 5:52 PM UTC
Some days yu know, mi just don't andastan
How a man can do di tings him do, an see himself a man.
Him seh dat god give im good sense a will and a soul
to know right ting fram wrang ting, to know pit from pothole.
But im covet an steal an shed blood
like a beast. Then im walk inna church
and pray god give im peace.
Is a human condition an a weakness a flesh
Is flaw in im naycha, a thorn in him breast.
But we human creecha, ought betta than best.
Ought draw a distinction from fish and from fowl.
Ought rise above avarice , greed and the rest.
But sometime I feel sure that the writing on wall.
will come to fruition and mankind will fall.
Is a small part of hu-man sunk deep in we core
what comes up and sprout wings and carry us shore.
Is that thing there, part spirit, part will, part divine.
What pull us from struction then skitter, then soar.
Then beat wings in hubris like Icarus lore.
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 3:42 AM UTC
Walls
Askilter
Sounds
Linger
Voices
Whisper
Lights
Flicker
Mice
Skitter
Snakes
Slither
And somewhere
Nearby
A monster lurks.
Dear monster underneath my bed,
You scare me
Even though you're dead.
And though a lurking ghost you be,
My horrid monster
You scare me.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
The midnight air is filled with
fetid sewage
the city block houses
yards of gravel and broken bricks
decorated streets of graffiti and *****
roaches skitter across sidewalks
A homeless woman sleeps on the sidewalk
a hundred yards away from the lofts
where I am safe
And I think where did it go wrong?
You lie here every night
with a casted foot and crutches
covered with the remains of a blanket
wondering where the next meal hides
Do you beg or play the raccoon?
This city never slows
sirens howl to the light polluted sky
constantly
like a coyotes staccato bark
Cranes reach toward the heavens
with a question to ask God
Can we build to your home and charge a fee to view the gates?
The nightclub below full of drunks
or to be drunks,
bellowing for attention
before riding home with a stranger
and waking up to another mistake
of empty emotions
With a hunger for acceptance
one will venture out
with one of questionable honesty
if the drugs are cheap
And here I am
walking the ***** streets
at one in the morning
in this menagerie of a city
because I can’t
Sleep
absorbing the sights and the smell
of sick and disgust
but in the morning all will be
Different
The sun will hide the dark
the sky will add color
the homeless will be camouflaged
with the busy crowd
buildings will look alive
bustling with people
the crane will be building
looking for an answer
And I still will not be able to
Sleep.
**** this filthy city.
And yet, I wouldn’t call any other place home.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC
**under my skin
high tension wires
they crackle and singe
the hair on my arms
burning inside
making roadmaps on my
throat and belly
leading
nowhere
the words are singing
an a cappella high note
bursting my eardrums
shattering glass
the fragments shimmer
and filter out into
the ionosphere
hang there
to rival
the
aurora borialis
the words are singing
their song of mermaids
their siren song
i crash on the rocks
i tear the paper
with a
rudderless ship
and the words
skitter
off the page
like lizards**
soulsurvivor
(c) 6/6/2015
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
He paints his ashtray
alkaline blue,
a petty tip-of-the-hat to
harbingers of evil,
men between men and
women sitting aside,
head bobbed
in embarrassment.
What have we become which
normalized gestures do not
puncture?
His alkaline blue ashtray
trading dust for roach buds
and where is he off to,
brain sorting sentiment with
barred numbers, statistics,
inaccessible phenomena.
Pains to say most often he is
wandering in the wings
flapping for attention.
How humanity must suffer
in the name of
self-effacement.
He and his
alkaline blue ashtray
skitter across the landscape
(a da Vinci,
a Mona Lisa)
again in apathy to watch
petty tip-of-the-hat prisoners
wag thumbs and call
each other names.
In the end of things,
reason does not prevail.
The dust is all.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 2:19 AM UTC
it saws old rain in my skull
and your thoughts take a tour; wet and heavy
and quietly, the dirt shifts in the metal tracts
*you break me every single time
my internal spilling is entangled
hopelessly*
my summer-psyche enmeshed in your season
and forever swallows a few more ribs
don't wake the children of the light
for their feathers will burn beneath my nails
a storm hangs patiently on the wall
like a delighted painting made from frantic crystals
and I skitter from your towering moods
yet the moon dances in and out of every calm abyss
the lid is no more vacant than my veins cursed with
your silence
like algae, I slip on
my terror squeaks like a vehicle possessed
cheeks go ashen in my gay smiles
you will blush, in secret at what I will do
to you
sails lift on garlicky air in a port where ships don't wait
and my tongue loosens another melody only doubt hears
I'm completely in your hands
and willing for that crush
my acts for coins fall meaningless in embedded frustration
don't come to the table, then
keep the shades drawn
only the sense of phantoms
will be hanging in my smoke
intoxicating me to radiance
racing through to the ripples in your day
I'll keep lancing pebbles across the ocean's surface
they will never really reach the riverbed
frosty comes in agonising diamonds
a feast of distress sitting urgently
a shudder flutters through me, imperceptible
reduction of sweetness
a date with the cherubs from a netherworld
my nose feels the snows you carry
and I know you constrict still
my language falters and thinking shatters
and although slumped and vulnerable, it flourishes.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC
the sky is being stolen
so that so much human soup
can high rise
to live above one another
a hierarchy to whisper
in God's ear
sunlight fills the cracks
illuminated grouting
I see clouds skitter by
I'm a prisoner
jealous of their freedom
wishing I could fly
Jan 16, 2023
Jan 16, 2023 at 6:05 PM UTC
Sip my wit like lemonade,
Kiss between my shoulder blades,
Concentrate,
Can you even remember my name?
Skitter, sicker, savage, sad,
Pop a pill don’t feel so bad,
You say I can do anything,
Yet you’ve never seen my eyes glow like coal,
I am Skaði and I will always be cold,
And I have broken more boys easy as shattering glass,
Cut palms and no class,
I am contagious,
My tongue is forked and poisonous,
So roll up roll up,
Watch me make everything worse,
Watch me spit and snap and talk in curse,
But don’t get too close because without any doubt,
Being near me will rot you,
Both inside and out.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
Atoms skitter to the center
In the square dance of all matter;
Quarks should rotate once around,
Keeping us on earth firm-bound.
Swing your partner far and wide,
Perihelion's kept astride,
And the strings of matter
String along the boson's heart.
Now come together; smatter, scatter;
Atom-smashers do not matter,
For this dance of matter
Truly is a dance of higher art,
Matter curtsys; and there's gravity
Fills in each slight curving cavity-
From above, you'll notice first
It all starts from just one burst-
So the particles keep on dancing,
Midnight comes, and still they're prancing;
Whirling, somersaulting like they never
Dared to dance before;
Keep on watching, as the clocks hands
Travel once more past the grandstand;
We're transfixed since matter never
Let us ever see this door.
We're the eyes and ears that dare
To watch this tantric ballet, bared;
Entanglement seduces; there's no other place to be-
Bow to your partner in this deadly quantum duel of rivalry.
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 3:03 PM UTC
Blood rushed to my face.
Reminds me of hot steam rushing to the ceiling while I shower.
The child in me wanted to skitter away--like a wild, galloping colt tripping over its legs.
But the woman in me stayed, grounded by the hulking rock of my deep emotion.
...Just a small glance--
A sheepish grin
As I perceived it.
I liked the tenderness there.
Piercings below his lower lip accentuated the smile I witnessed.
The one that lit up my eyes,
It was the reflection of fire in a mirror.
The piercings were black-pegged snake bites
Blending in well on the face they adorned
Seeming
To invite me towards
The shy curves of
His dark lips
To explore them,
and the protruding presence of the metal that was so becoming of him.
Neither of us approached the other,
And this subtle exchange turned into our little secret:
A delicious,
Lovely,
Vulnerable,
****
Secret.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 11:49 PM UTC
Remove the cold, clean refrigerator water
Poured into your mind to become a bit hotter.
Poison-less, diamond-faceted twinkling glitter
Internal pulse pounds, skitter and flitter.
Your propane personality flickers,
Internal heat hushed, the teapot snickers,
But now higher, higher grows your fire
Melting into you is all I desire.
Louder, louder screams the steam
Announcing inner worth below the outer gleam.
The superheated shouts squeaked out your teeth
Can't compare to the bubbling beauty buried beneath.
Trickle, pour, add some more
You're the tea that I adore.
Sometimes bitter, though discretely sweet
Just a little time and it's complete.
Closed eyed sips make my stomach glow
Melting my inner, internal snow.
And through and through, every batch I brew
I can't help falling a little more in love with you.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 9:59 PM UTC
Your words,
like silken tendrils,
crept along my skin,
Passing shivers flared,
Brushed off
with an uneasy smile,
Now these diaphanous strands
threaten to mummify,
Encase me in a cocoon
of slights,
sarcasm,
and casual cruelty,
Liquifying my insides
to better feed you,
Bloat your predatory emptiness
with my life-force,
Your clacking mouthparts sharpen,
As does my resolve,
My innards are not for your
slurping,
Skitter back to your shadowy lair,
This corpse will not play,
I rise, awakened,
The sun waits for me.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Leaves skitter as shoed feet
fall silently, wind clinging
at clothes in the death
of summer.
A once-verdant echo
sighs into place
clouds weigh heavy
warmth is savored
the grasses die
instinct stirs.
The world dies
to be renewed
in glorious flame,
changing to stay
the same.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
if I quote great “minds”
or utter a singular word
about my own
tell me to hide under a rock
shun me with silence
ignore my proclamations
throw stones at me
I will eat my insects
skitter through the cacti forests
without regard for trudging truth
or the liquid lies of the high born
I will dodge the thorns
let my blood boil in the searing sun
mate without wily wooing
I will be
other than thee,
a grit dirt dweller
a hisser, blissfully
unaware, I hope
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
she's got shadows in her hair
and scorpions hide in there.
her eyes drip venom,
incapacitating
all she glances upon,
turning a summer sunrise
into decay.
she's got shadows in her hair
and scorpions move beneath the surface.
her lips skitter,
chasing down
and breaking apart
even the sturdiest of mountains.
she's got shadows in her hair
and scorpions crawl under skin.
her teeth gnaw,
eroding
all she touches,
turning a broken promise
into gossamer strands.
she's got shadows in her hair
and scorpions dance within her skull.
her chest heaves,
filling up
and emptying out
the horizon.
she's got shadows in her hair
and scorpions bleeding throughout.
her heart roars,
shaking
all she treads on,
turning a lifetime
into dust.
she's got shadows in her hair
and I no longer care about the scorpions.
her hands shake,
holding my
immortal coil
in a death grip.
she's got scorpions in her hair.
Feb 2, 2024
Feb 2, 2024 at 4:40 AM UTC
i want
this stream of consciousness
to pool around me
but its rushed feed of tumult is
only mine to thumb through
i dip one finger in
eddies pixelate skitter strip
look and
catch a glimpse
of brilliance yet
ultimately
bleed
into a
scream of conscience
i
am
funneled toward a
delta
leading my unheld hand off
to a sleepy deep dive into nothing i know im
drown
ing
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
For who am I, compared to you,
For you are a lion and I'm a mouse,
Living among lies in an abusive house,
I skitter and skatter until you pounce,
For there is nowhere to hide,
And none by my side,
I feel alone,
In this broken home,
Day by day I wish and pray.
But no one listens,
For what I have to say,
For that after all who am I compared to you,
For you are a lion and I'm a mouse.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 6:12 AM UTC